SIXTEEN
I DRAG MYSELF DOWNSTAIRS THE FOLLOWING morning. Dad’s not there but Mom is, sipping from her oversized coffee mug, looking once again her usual put-together self in a pantsuit. Pearl drops dangle from her ears. She hardly looks the mother of someone like me. This strikes me almost at once. How easy it’s become for me to alter my perception of me. It makes me wonder if I really ever knew myself.
I dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt that Mitchell outgrew—some band I never heard of emblazoned across the front. I finally washed my hair. Still wet, it looks dark brown in the twin braids that hang low across my shoulders.
My imprint is there for the world to see. I don’t try to hide it with my hair or a high collar. When I got ready for school this morning, I kept thinking of Sean. How proud he appears. Unapologetic. And I want to be like that. I don’t want to look cowed or ashamed. I may not want to be this, but I don’t want to be that girl, either. I don’t want to be afraid.
“You’re going to school?”
“Yeah. I kind of have to.”
Mom nods. “Yes. Of course. I’m glad to see you up and moving around.” She fixes her gaze to my face, her eyes strangely wide and unblinking. Like it’s taking everything inside her not to look down. Not to gawk at my neck. At what I’ve become.
She sets down her coffee cup and picks up some papers from the table. Sliding them into her brief bag, she murmurs casually, “You sure you want to wear your hair like that?”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
She shrugs. “It’s just a little . . . young for you.”
This almost makes me laugh. She doesn’t care how young it makes me look. She cares about how much it exposes my neck. “I can’t hide it from the world. Figure I better get it over with and let everyone see it today.”
Her cheeks pink up and I know it’s because I saw through her words. She opens her mouth as if to deny this, but then presses her lips shut. Instead, she nods. Picking up her bag with one hand and her coffee with the other, she nods at the door. “You ready now? Your car is still at school. I can give you a lift.”
“Sure.” Grabbing my backpack, I follow her out.
We’re a little early arriving to school. There are still a lot of kids mingling in the parking lot, gradually making their way to the double front doors. She pulls up to the curb, and I hesitate in my seat.
Mom waits a moment, glancing at the clock on her dash. “Sorry,” she finally murmurs. “I have a meeting.”
“Just take me to my car. I’ll wait inside until the bell rings,” I snap, clearly annoyed. She knows the rules. I’m not supposed to arrive until twenty minutes after the first bell. What does she expect me to do?
Mom doesn’t comment, which only aggravates me further. I don’t say good-bye, just open the door and start to climb out, pausing when she calls out, “I won’t be home for dinner. You can order pizza.”
“All right.” With a grunt, I slam the door shut and punch the UNLOCK button to my car. I’m already sliding behind the wheel as she drives off.
No one really notices me, sitting alone in my car, watching the swarm of students. I start the car and listen to the radio. One guy races across the parking lot, his letterman jacket a blur as he grabs a cheerleader off her feet. He twirls her, sending her little yellow-and-blue-pleated skirt flying around her tan legs. She swats his back, laughing, loving the attention.
Several of her friends look on enviously. I stare with a hollowness in my heart. I used to be that girl with the envious friends, the coveted boyfriend, a bright future. It had all been an illusion. None of it real. Just as I hadn’t been real. If my life had been real, if it amounted to anything, it would have survived a DNA test that declared me potentially dangerous. I’d still have that boyfriend, those friends, the life that was going somewhere. I have to make my own way now, figure out a new future.
The students thin out. I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and keep an eye on the clock. When it’s finally time, I turn off the car and get out. Coco and I enter the building almost simultaneously. She forgoes her usual pattern of ignoring me and stares openly.
When I meet her gaze, she gives me a slight nod and falls into step beside me. “It’s a good look on you.”
Unbelievable as it seems, I smile.
I realize I forgot to pack a lunch when Brockman announces that everyone can eat. I continue working on my assignment, not lifting my head. Not even when I hear the metallic clang of the door.
“Did you hear me, Hamilton?” He nudges my shoulder, and I pull away sharply in the opposite direction. He never touches me when Sean’s around. I wince at the realization, wishing there was something I could do to earn the same results. Sean can’t be around all the time. “Time for lunch. I’m not going to let you eat later. This is your one chance. Don’t think that mark on your neck changes anything. It doesn’t impress me—”
“I don’t have a lunch,” I interject, hoping to end his diatribe. Did he really think I thought this mark on my neck would earn me better treatment?
He grunts and mutters something. I can’t understand him. I’m just glad when he walks away.
A few moments pass and Gil slides into the desk in front of me. Facing me, he hands me half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I look from the half sandwich to his earnest face, hesitating before saying, “I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are. Take it.”
“I don’t need your pity. I’m not starving. I just forgot to pack my lunch today.”
“It’s not pity. It’s food. Take it.”
Feeling a little silly for being so unfriendly to one of the only nice people I’ve met since this all started, I take the sandwich and bite into it. Instantly, the sweetness of the jelly floods my taste buds, and the peanut butter sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“I don’t think I’ve eaten peanut butter since I was ten,” I get out around a gooey mouthful.
He pats his almost concave stomach. “Lines your belly.”
I point. “What belly?
“Oh, this belly can put away more food than you probably eat in a month. It’s an endless pit.”
“And that’s just tragically unfair.”
He starts digging around in his brown paper sack. “I’ve got cheese puffs in here, pickles, fruit snacks, a couple of Snickers, and three pudding cups.”
I gawk at the load he starts spreading out on my desk.
He motions before him. “Help yourself.”
After a moment, I pick up one of the fruit snacks and tear the wrapper. “Your parents must have one hell of a grocery bill.”
“It’s just my mom. And she’s actually the manager at the convenience store where I work.”
“I didn’t realize she works there.”
He leans in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone, but she sneaks me the candy bars.” He points to his drink. “Sometimes she even scores Gatorade.”
I nod with mock seriousness. “Perks of the trade.”
“Precisely.”
He sobers. “Soon, I’ll be able to reap the benefits, too. She’s almost convinced the owner to promote me from stock boy to cashier when I graduate.”
He looks genuinely pleased. I bend the corner of the spiral notebook on my desk, looking at him quizzically. “Is that what you want to do when you get out of here?”
He gives me a funny look. “C’mon, Davy. You know it has nothing to do with what any of us want. Did you want that on your neck?”
I resist the urge to touch my neck, as if I can feel the thing he sees, like a serpent wrapping around my throat. It’s easy to forget it’s there during the course of the day. Until someone reminds you.
“You’re going to have to think beyond this room and what comes after. There are limitations.”
What comes after . . .
I nod slowly. Of course, he’s right. I need to start planning. Before, my whole life had a plan. Ever since I was three I knew my destiny. And now that plan is dead, gone. If Gil is to be believed, I can’t aspire to any type of high-level position. A bitter taste fills my mouth. Maybe I can live at home forever. Or in the pool house when Mitchell finally gets his act together and moves out. The very possibility makes me feel slightly ill. It’s so far from the dreams I had for myself.
The door clangs. I turn. Sean steps inside. I don’t look away. Not like before. Not anymore. After yesterday, I don’t need to look away anymore. If not friends exactly, we’re at least friendly. This conviction grows as I meet his gaze head-on.
“Hey, Sean.” Gil gives a small wave.
I stare, smile a little. As much as I can manage. “Hello.” It’s the first time I’ve even greeted him.
He stares back, his pale eyes missing nothing. Not the hair scraped neatly back from my face. He sees all of me. He hesitates, not taking his usual seat. I feel Gil watching us. Finally, Sean moves forward and takes the seat behind me.
I turn so that my legs stick out in the aisle. This way I can see both boys.
“Hey,” he greets. To both of us, I guess, but he’s looking at me.
Gil’s voice pipes up from my right. “So, you two are friends now?”
I feel my face heat.
“Makes sense, of course,” he adds, motioning to both our necks with a flick of his hand. “You’ve got matching ink and all.”
I could strangle him. My mouth works, at a loss for words, and I’m sure I look like a fish.
Sean laughs low. “Yeah. ’Cause we picked them out and everything, Gil. Like matching T-shirts. Next, it will be wedding bands.” He’s obviously joking, but that doesn’t stop the heat from spreading to my ears.
“Well, you know.” Gil shrugs. “You have something in common now.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, meeting Sean’s eyes. “I guess we do.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers ..................................................................
* * *
To: Mika, Billy, Miguel From: Kevin
2:30! Don’t b late! We gotta do this right Mika
Which mall again?
Srsly? Northchase!
And ur not doing mall ur going 2 stadium I’m picking u up at 1:30, remember?
Mika
Y—got it
Miguel
We’ve only gone over 100x!
Mika
K—gonna roc!!
Billy
Glad ur babysitting, dumbass. U know how 2 shoot, right?
Mika
Screw u!
Cut the crap-stay focused treat us like animals we’ll show them animals Mika
Hear that!
Miguel
Payback a bitch!
Mika
Can’t wait! Gonna blow some shiz up!